


The Night Before Something

by Tiberius_Tibia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anything is possible, Avengers Movie Night, Bucky Barnes Feels, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Movie Night, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, i might come back and add a sex scene later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiberius_Tibia/pseuds/Tiberius_Tibia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are getting along just fine post-WS. But fine is the best they seem to get. </p><p>With Christmas coming, Clint and Sam initiate the pre-Christmas Movie-Marathon of Yuletide Spirit. There are cuddles, sad memories, happy memories, sad Christmas trees, feelings, pizza and cookie dough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Before Something

Bucky is infinitely grateful to Clint and Sam for inviting themselves over for a pre-Christmas Marathon of Yuletide Spirit, as Clint has decided to call it. He’s been home for nine weeks, three days and thirteen hours. At least that’s how long he’s been living in Steve’s apartment, the new Brooklyn one that’s mind-bogglingly expensive and big enough to have comfortably housed Bucky’s whole family plus Steve and his ma back in the day. 

It hasn’t been exactly awkward. Both he and Steve are so desperate to love each other again that they practically bend over backwards to make each other smile. Which is precisely the problem— it’s deliberate, almost calculated being-friends stuff, none of the easy, take-no-guff camaraderie that they had before. Steve will call him a punk, and he’ll ruffle Steve’s hair to remind him that it’s ok for him to touch Bucky, but it’s habit more than impulse. Once, Steve sat on the arm of the chair Bucky was in watching TV. Bucky had instinctively scooted over to make room for him, his brain misinforming him that his skinny, little jackass friend would slide his bony hips in next to him and they’d spend the evening pressed snug against each other reading dime novels, or Steve drawing the funny faces Bucky pulled for him.

Only Steve didn’t fit. When he tried to squeeze into the oversize leather armchair that matched the sprawling sofa, they ended up wedged uncomfortably, both contorted into strange angles at shoulders and hips. “Whoops,” Steve had said, blushing, “Forgot I’m not small enough to fit in your pocket anymore.” He kept his eyes away from Bucky’s as he extricated himself, and Bucky wasn’t sure how much of the stiff set of Steve’s back was embarrassment, regret, shame or just wrenched vertebrae. 

It’s the same with sex. They’ve been sharing a bed, and they’ve had sex three times. Bucky thinks their first time was probably better than the bizarrely polite way they take care of each other now. _We used to tease Monty about bringing those stuffy British manners into the sack, I bet he’s got nothing on us now._ It’s all carefully not wanting too much and _do you still like that_ and _no, no, I can do that_. They’re a lock and key that’ve just gotten a little too worn to work properly, a little bit of sharpening and they’ll be right as rain. He tells himself that and pushes away the thought that the lock might have changed entirely.

Christmas approaching only highlights how _just fine_ things are between them. So when Clint had proposed an all-night marathon of Christmas movies the weekend before the holiday, Bucky had accepted eagerly. He likes Clint. The man has the puppyish enthusiasm he remembers or thinks he remembers, in the old Bucky Barnes. It's enthusiasm for different things— his dog, his car, coffee, that ridiculously Luddite weapon of his (Bucky keeps that last thought to himself, and he has to admit that at least Clint is superlatively skilled at it)— but the way his whole being vibrates with joy calls up echoes of something Bucky associates with Billie Holiday and real fountain sodas. He has a hard time being happy on his own; the day he’d set up his iTunes account he’d spent six hours in his room, playing God Bless the Child on repeat and trying unsuccessfully to cry like a normal person. Reflected happiness works better for him these days.

Steve had agreed too. Christmas had been a rather touchy topic for them before that. Steve'd his heart set on getting a tree, lights, presents. He’d even mentioned getting an piano for the apartment so Bucky could play the way he had when they were kids and Bucky’s parents inherited their old upright from an aunt. They’d gotten a tree. It sat in its stand, undecorated because of the quiet, bitter fight they’d had over what to do with it. Bucky couldn’t hide his disdain for most of the store-bought offerings; cheap, foreign-made junk or stupidly expensive, pretentious designer baubles. Then Steve had suggested they make some paper angels or string popcorn (not real popcorn, he’d laughed, they could use the packing peanuts that sat in bags in their building’s basement trash— they’d be _green_ ) and Bucky had flatly refused. He couldn’t explain why, not even to himself. It was just something he physically couldn’t bring himself to do.

So the tree remains bare. He's soured it for Steve, and that hurts horribly, but he kind of likes the dark, pine-scented naturalness of it. It's kind of hard to explain though.

“What, did you two tough guys wear yourselves out getting that monster tree in here? Now you’re too tired to string the lights?" Sam jokes when he arrives with beer.

Bucky and Steve exchange an uneasy glance. "We're still deciding what kind of lights to get," Steve explains.

"Oh yeah? You guys know you've only got like- ten more days?" Sam's doing the thing with his eyebrows that says _how do these two tie their shoes without help?_ "But then it's Sophie's Choice, right? Rainbow or white? And these days they make pink, or blue, or icicles. So many options.” He shakes his head. "So who's on which side? I need to know which one of you is my mortal Christmas enemy from now on."

"White," says Steve with a shrug, "It's classic."

Bucky scoffs, "I like the colored ones."

"We always got white!" Steve protests, "Why'dya want to ruin tradition?"

"Dunno."

"Well," Sam rubs his hands together gleefully, "I'm with Barnes. White lights are for weddings." He smiles at Bucky and it pleases Bucky that returning the smile feels natural.

Clint arrives then with the pizza and a shopping bag of Pillsbury cookie dough in sugar, gingerbread and chocolate chip flavors. He's wearing a Santa hat. Lucky has antlers. _Well_ , Bucky thinks, _if the dark thoughts start creeping in I can just look at Clint._  

Between them, Sam and Clint have brought Elf, A Christmas Story, Die Hard, The Grinch- cartoon version, Clint is quite emphatic about that, The Muppet Christmas Carol and Love Actually. That's one of Sam's picks and Clint rolls his eyes but concedes that it's not _unwatchable_. Everybody serves themselves and they eat off paper plates on their knees. Pizza is delicious, Bucky will admit that much. And wings- he's a big fan of wings. But nothing that isn’t home-cooked will ever really feel like Christmas to him. Sam settles into the armchair. He and Steve take the couch, with Clint between them. Lucky's at their feet, sniffing hopefully at the discarded crusts.

6pm- A Christmas Story (1983)

There's a lot the movie gets right. Sam explains that it's based off the story of a real Indiana kid and his childhood memories. Things look more right- the clothes, the houses- but the outsize, loony humor of it keeps everything at a safe distance. He catches Steve's eye at the Little Orphan Annie bit. Steve has a dash of ranch dressing at the corner of his mouth. Bucky hands him a napkin.

"God, you hated that show Buck," he comments, almost shyly.

"You bet I did. It was all Rebecca and Louise ever wanted to listen too!"

"They put up with plenty of The Shadow for your sake over the years."

"Yeah, but they're the reason we were never allowed to listen to the Mysterious Traveler or Inner Sanctum, not after that one time when we were babysitting." They're laughing together. He's in the middle of it before he's noticed it start. This shared memory hangs between them like a soap bubble. Miraculously neither of them bursts it and it floats off on its own, shimmering and whole.

7:45pm- Die Hard (1988)

"Don't go getting any ideas, Steve," Sam remarks as the movie starts and it's soon clear what he means.  

"See that?" Bucky swats Steve on the shoulder, "He didn't have a parachute but at least he used the fire hose- that's called using your brain, jerk."

Steve swats him back and they back-and-forth for a while until a near mishap with Clint's craft beer. After that, Clint insists on switching places with Bucky and everyone keeps their hands to themselves for a while. 

"You wouldn't fit in the air ducts anyway," Bucky adds.

When the movie ends there's a short skirmish over the last slice of pizza. It's a beaut- huge and with lots of cheese bubbles. In the end, Sam settles it with his usual diplomacy.

"Mr. Barnes, Mr. Barton, I have a proposal. I would be willing to abdicate my claim to the pizza for a price. When you hear it, I suspect you'll be willing to do the same."

Steve looks nervous at that. Clint narrows his eyes, "What's the price?"

"I'm willing to renounce the last slice, if Captain Rogers will put on his full regalia, including the shield, and let us make a vine of him saying 'Yippee-ki-yay motherfucker."

It's really a no brainer for Clint and Bucky. All three wait, staring at Steve.

"Guys, c'mon. Kids watch my stuff. What kind of message is that?" 

No one answers and Steve rambles on. "Profanity is totally appropriate in some situations but it shouldn't be used just for the... heck of it."

 More silence. "Fine, someone else can have the last slice."

"This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter the odds or the consequences.  When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree besides the river of truth, and tell the whole world-- fine, but I get the last beer too."

A cheer goes up from the other three and Steve goes off to change.

"And that is my new ringtone," Clint says, smiling beatifically when it's done.

 10:15pm- Elf (2003)

"There's still Gimbels?" Steve get all excited for a minute.  
"Nah," answers Clint, "They just did that for the movie, as a joke." Steve frowns.

They pause halfway through and slice the cookie dough rolls in half after only a token debate about actually baking versus eating them raw. Sam and Bucky are the only ones who like gingerbread dough, and Clint is quick to take the chair in Sam's stead. He and Bucky share the gingerbread between them, Clint takes the chocolate chip and Steve the sugar. At some point after changing back into sweats, Steve's curled his feet up onto the couch and his toes prod Bucky in the small of the back. Neither of them acknowledges the accidental touch, although their both plainly aware of it. Finally Bucky lifts Steve's feet and sets them in his lap, tucking the blanket in around them. Steve smiles and offers him a helping of sugar cookie dough. When he spoons it into Bucky's mouth the sweetness, and the smooth metal bowl that had rested against Steve's own mouth just moments ago feels more like a kiss than they've had since Bucky's return. Strangely the thought doesn't make him sad.

12 am- How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966)

"Hey, that's that guy Stevie," Bucky pokes Steve with the handle of his spoon, "The Private Snafu guy, from the Motion Picture Unit."

"What guy?" Clint asks around a mouthful of dough.

"The artist guy, the draw-er," says Bucky, instantly cringing at himself. Steve's shaking with laughter at him.

"Geisl, Dr. Seuss," Steve explains, "He made cartoons for the army, funny what-not-to-do bits."

Bucky elaborates, "How not to get booby-trapped, how not to get run over by a tank, how not to spill vital information. That kind of thing."

"I'm guessing they never made how-not-to-throw-yourself-on-a-grenade or how-not-to-leap-forty-stories-out-of-a-building," Sam quips.

Steve glares. Clint laughs. Bucky smirks and says, "Come to think of it, they never did. Guess most of the troops were too bright to need _those_ lessons." Under the blanket, Steve digs his toes into Bucky's ribs.

12:30am- Love Actually (2003)

“Shut up,” Sam orders, “This movie is proof that the age of the great romantic comedy is not dead. The ghosts of Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant command you!”

“This movie is also ten years old,” Clint gripes, “So much for the revival of the great screwball tradition.”

“If Die Hard counts, we’re watching this movie,” Sam uses his final-word-on-the-matter voice and nobody argues.

The opening voice over starts, a suave British voice extolling how love is everywhere, and in our darkest moments we always think of the ones we love. It’s saccharine and emotionally manipulative, but it works on Bucky. He thinks of the fall, and before that the table in Zola’s lab, and how all he wanted was to spend one more day with Steve. Even if it was a bad day, a day when Steve was sick, snotty and petulant. He’d wanted snotty, petulant Steve more than anything in the world. He still does. And now? Bucky glances at Steve resting his head on the arm of the sofa, his feet still in Bucky’s lap. Intellectually, he knows Steve is glad to have him back, overjoyed really. He’s feared since his return that they would both be too different, that if they’d met as strangers now there wouldn’t be that bond between them— the bond that made him long for Steve’s bony ass in his lap as the kissed, or the inevitable interruption of his pleasant night out by Steve’s hyperactive sense of fairness.

Steve talked a lot about shared life experience. Bucky secretly rolled his eyes at that, because they came from the same place and landed in the same spot, but they’d taken very different roads to get there. But sharing— that stupid, playground lesson that everyone tries to teach you— isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something you chose. _”I swear, sometimes I think you like getting punched_ whispers a ghost in his head, and Bucky thinks of the helicarrier. Steve had been glad to see him, glad to spend one more day with him, even if Bucky was out of his mind and beating him bloody.

He stops that line of thought, and has to look at Clint’s stupid hat for eight minutes to keep his breathing normal.

“What a jerk!” Steve’s voice is indignant, “How can he cheat on such a classy lady? For some floozie?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say ‘floozie’,” says Clint.

Everyone laughs. Bucky excuses himself for the last five minutes of the movie to use the bathroom. He shuts the door and leans heavily on it, taking deep breaths. He can still hear the strains of the Beach Boys following him down the hall.

3am- The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)

Bucky knows this story because _everyone_ knows this story. Muppets are new to him, but he enjoys their gently biting humor. He tries to distance himself, from the movie, from Sam and Steve sitting companionably with him on the couch, Clint dozing in the chair with the dog resting on his lap. _Because it’s so fucking easy to start over_ , he thinks irrationally angry with a blue monster puppet, _it’s so easy to let the person you were for decades evaporate like mist._ He wishes three ghosts would come to him, that he could have an epiphany and wake up and have everything be sunny and happy and fixed. There are three threads winding through his head now; the Soldier who thought only of orders, everything was logic and trajectory and risk assessment, there was the old Bucky who felt like a cousin he’d played with once as a very small child and was expected to be best friends with years later, and there was whatever spore had sprouted out those two. What would they do in this situation?

The Asset would ask for a mission. That was obvious: be to Steve what he had been before the train. Plan of action: engage with Steve, verbally and physically. Practice strict objectivity regarding what he did and did not find enjoyable about their time together and express both positive and negative findings to Steve.

Bucky would let it happen organically, the way they always made up after fights or the little estrangements of childhood. He’d spend time with Steve doing nothing, ‘cause that’s what they mostly did together anyway. He’d reach for Steve when he felt like it, and he always did feel like it sooner or later.

And him?

4:30am

Clint is asleep in the chair and none of them have the heart to wake him.

“I could carry him to the couch,” Steve offers in a stage whisper.

Sam shakes his head no, “He’d never forgive you.” They all silently agree to leave the mess and Sam takes the guest room. Both Bucky and Steve are already in sweats and t-shirts, all that’s left is hair and teeth-brushing and Bucky’s inclined to skip both. He flops face first on the bed while Steve heads to the bathroom. He must have fallen asleep because the movement of Steve sitting on the bed startles him awake. 

Steve reaches for Bucky’s pony tail. “You’ll get snarls,” he says gently, holding out the comb.

“Dun’ care,” Bucky murmurs into the pillow. 

“Let me do it for you?”

Bucky nods and Steve tugs the elastic out and carefully works the comb through Bucky’s hair. This is new. This is them now. It couldn’t be them before, because no way would Bucky have let his hair grow this long, not in the ‘30s. Steve must know that too, and he still wants this. He wants now. 

“I want to get rainbow lights for the tree,” Bucky says into the stillness, “We always got white ones before because you couldn’t see all the colors right. Now you can.”  
Steve stops brushing and lies down, spooning in behind Bucky. “Okay,” he whispers into the nape of Bucky’s neck. He hesitates then asks, “Can we make some paper angels? Just a few, like your ma always asked us to.”

“You’ll have to show me how, ’m not sure I remember.”

“I’ll show you. We have all the time you need.”

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing the next chapter to Eighth Delphic Maxim (which is 75% done) and The Discard Pile (which is not 75% done) but instead I wrote about Steve and Bucky angsting and watching Christmas movies.


End file.
